Stepping Up Your Game
by qfd
Summary: BC boy &Bruins fan favorite Milan Lucic has a bad back, but it's not a subject he lets just anyone in on until the Bruins allow doctoral thesis student & fellow Canadian Serb Adrijana into the locker room. Will she be getting her cougar license & doctorat
1. Chapter 1

"A foolish fox is caught by one leg, but a wise one by all four." (old Serbian saying)

C1

"Another one bites the dust, hey Mount Milan?" fellow Canadian and ex-Vancouverite Chuck Kobasew sat across from where Milan was stretching on the floor of the gym. His back was hurting, again but no surprise there. It never got better and it was only going to get worse. Just not yet. Not if he could help it.

"Dumb rook," Milan smiled to himself, flexing his big thick fingers. A couple of his knuckles were swollen and they'd probably hurt in the morning but he could ignore that. These little aches and pains were nothing after a win.

"You really sent him crying home to his momma huh?" The giant Russian defenseman that they all just called Chara lumbered over him, hardly having to take more than a normal stride to walk over him. Milan didn't so much as flinch. When you've known a guy a while, you know what he can do and what he can't do and there wasn't a hell of a lot the seven foot tall Russian couldn't do.

"Like I said, dumb rook," he grinned, going back to stretching his own long limbs out. At six four, they should have seemed long, but they didn't. They could have been longer, might have been longer, but that wasn't worth thinking about. They did the job okay. They'd taken care of business tonight, even if he had been dropped to the third line.

He'd been pretty pissed about it when Julien had dropped that particular bomb on him. He wasn't mad at PJ, who could be mad at PJ? With Bergie out, it was inevitable that the lines get switched up. It just seemed like first to third was a bit drastic. But then maybe it had helped him get back in touch with what he was best at; beating the living shit out of the opposition.

Grinning to himself, Milan struggled to his feet and strode past his team mates to the bikes. He could still feel the ice in his legs, which meant he'd wake up with spasms and cramps if he didn't work the lactic acid out of them. It helped him come off the ice too. Not that he had a wife and kids to go home to like some of the guys. He could go to the bar and have a couple of brewskies and talk about the fight, relive it, plan for the next one.

It was at times like these that he had thank God he was in Boston. These people worshipped tough guys like him. They wouldn't talk about why or what it was like to be dropped to the third line. All they cared about was that he was the leader in hits in the league right now and that he'd taught another rookie not to mess with him or his teammates. He might only be a sophomore himself, but he'd gone up against the best and won. All anyone had to do was go on youtube or to check his record.

Maybe that kid tonight thought he had to do it too. Milan chuckled to himself as he hopped on one of the stationary bikes and got his legs pumping. He could relate. He'd felt like he had to take on Jarkko Ruutu last season to make a name for himself. He couldn't claim to be the biggest and baddest until he'd taken on some of the best fighters in the league. He remembered that fight well and he expected that kid tonight would remember going up against Mount Lucic even if it was just because of the bruises he'd have later tonight. He'd given that kid a good shit kicking, but at least the kid had had the decency to take off his helmet. That was old school. He'd keep that in mind if they met up again.

They were meeting the Pens again in a couple days. After a spanking like this he expected they'd come back twice as hard but he could think about that later. Now he had at least two nights of punishing his body with alcohol before he had to think about facing that bunch of snot nosed kids. That might even give his bottom lip time to heal unless he met one of those girls at the bar and she bit it….

"Milan, there's someone I'd like you to meet with, in my office." Milan looked up from the thoughts swirling in his head to see the team's head physiotherapist standing in front of him with a clip board in his hand. Nodding, he slid off the bike, grabbed his water bottle and towel and followed the smaller man through the gym. Even if he was the toughest son of a bitch in the room, he was still a sophomore, and he wasn't in a position, like some of the veterans were, to tell any of the staff to come back later.

Maybe one day he mused, towelling off his wet hair as he followed the team trainer down the hall.

* * *

Adrijana gazed around the training room, just to give herself something to do more than having any interest in the combinations of rubs and ointments stacked on the shelves, ice packs and wraps all in their places. She thought about counting them, just to keep her mind occupied. It wasn't the general stink, the mixture of sweat and menthol that had her senses on high alert. It was the testosterone in the air. She couldn't blame the head trainer for wanting to put her in this little room, away from a couple dozen sweaty men under the age of forty, she just wished she wasn't so pissed off about it.

She should have been used to it by now. Even though there were probably more women than men in her chosen field, most of the women went to work with other female athletes or at schools, organizations that had a better track record of supporting female trainers. As far as Adrijana knew, there were not now, nor had there ever been a full time female trainer for a National Hockey League team.

Tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder and raking her fingers through it anxiously, she thought about the letter of acceptance in her bag. Of all the clubs in the NHL, she was still surprised that Boston had been the one to accept her onto their staff, albeit temporarily, to work on her thesis.

"Milan, this is Ms. Caric? Am I getting that right?" the team's physiotherapist was looking down at the notes he'd been given. She smiled. It wasn't often that her name was pronounced properly but considering who she'd come to see, Adri was willing to bet Milan had had to correct a few people on the proper pronunciation of his name, more than once. "She's doing her doctorate in Kinesiology, and the team has agreed to have her work with a few of the guys," he added with what sounded like only the whisper of a sigh behind it. As if he had any more right to be here than she had. Adrijana pushed herself off the wooden chair that must have been at least forty years old itself, definitely not ergonomic or cocksis friendly. She'd have to make a note on that for later she thought to herself as she held her hand out to the dark haired young man who stood dripping before her.

"A doctorate? So that has to make you like what...? Thirty?" he asked, wiping his forehead with the towel with one oversize meaty hand while reaching for hers' with the other. Adri's hand froze and she found herself staring at him in disbelief. Here she'd been looking forward to working with what she assumed would be a polite young man from her home town with what she had assumed would have been the same strict upbringing and he was being a jerk, right off the bat. "Oh shit...did I say that out loud? Sorry I was just...I was talking when I should have been thinking," he added, a hint of pink colouring his cheeks as they stood there, both with their hands still out towards one another, but neither closing the distance required to actually shake hands.

"Well that was unexpected," Adri turned to gather her clip board protectively to her chest, trying to shake off the mortification she was feeling. "No hard feelings," she added as she got her facial expression under control so she could turn back to him. It unfortunately wasn't unexpected. It was actually par for the course. Most guys she'd deal with felt the need to make some sort of sexual comment upon meeting her, some were just more obvious than others, and jocks were usually the most obvious. Despite the fact that he was being a jerk, she couldn't help but notice the way his t-shirt clung to his sweat soaked well formed body. The difference between was, she could keep her comments, and her eyes, to herself.

"No, you don't understand. I mean, guys are always saying what a MILF my mom is and it's like...who wants to hear that about your mom you know?" he continued, moving towards her like he wanted to hug her to make it better or something and all Adrijana could think was that she wanted out of this room and away from this boy with the verbal diarrhoea. She had hoped that hockey players would at least have _half_ a brain more than the football players she'd been studying at the university, but she was beginning to wonder at her choice now as he stood awkwardly before her, his hands held out as if he were about to beg for something, or break into song, she wasn't sure which.

"I'll umm...try to keep that in mind?" she looked up at him hopefully, praying that he was done talking about her age and his mother in the same breath. She made a mental note to go home and eat an entire tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream-_with_ chocolate syrup. But that was for later. Right now she had to put on her big girl panties and deal with yet another jerk who felt the need to belittle her because she was '_gasp'_ a girl.

"I really am sorry. Let's start again, you can call me Looch," he grabbed her hand and nearly crushed it in his enthusiasm to prove what a great guy he was. Sighing, Adri withdrew her hand, giving it a little shake to see if any ones actually rattled loose. Big dumb puppy she thought to herself as she backed up until she felt the small of her back come in contact with the edge of a desk. Just in case he decided to shake sweat on her too.

"I'll try to remember that," she tried to smile, not encouragingly, just normally. The last thing she needed was for this or any of the other big goons out in the gym to get the wrong impression. She needed to get through the next month without any sexual innuendo of any kind. She had to prove that it could be done. Even if he did have really, really wide shoulders and dimples when he smiled.

* * *

"And you're Adrijana Caric, right? That sounds Serbian," he added, still unable to get his mouth under control. It wasn't strictly his fault Milan decided as he stood towering over her. He was fighting the urge to tell her she was pretty, it was hard enough to do that and think at the same time. Sure there was the occasional female reporter, but none of them came in the dressing room in knee high leather boots and jeans so tight that he didn't need to use his imagination to picture her naked and he hadn't even got to her chest yet, but to be fair, she was hiding what she could of that behind a clipboard.

"You got it in one," she smiled over her clip board at him but the smile didn't make it past her lips, which were full and covered in sticky looking gloss that looked like it might taste like candy or something. Milan caught himself thinking about licking it off and had to give himself a little shake, dropping his towel down to cover anything that might be showing through his under armour shorts. "Now, getting down to business," she slid up onto the counter and nodded towards the massage table in the middle of the room, "I wanted to talk to you about your back."

"Oh that," he sighed, glad to be face down on the table so that it didn't show that he was finding the way her full round breasts pressed against the soft fabric of her sweater appealing.

"I'm sure you've been asked a lot of questions about it over the years." Was it his imagination or was the tone of her voice _actually_ softening as she walked over to stand near him? His eyes followed her as she put the clip board aside. "May I?" she asked, her hand hovering over the middle of his back. He yearned to tell her she could do just about anything she wanted to him but he kept his mouth shut, figuring it was safer to do that than have another embarrassing bought of tripping over his idiot tongue. He closed his eyes as she ran the palm of her hand lightly over the curve in his spine, the one that made him hunch over, just slightly; the one that left him about two inches shorter than he was meant to be.

Her hand didn't feel like a doctors'. She didn't press down, didn't poke or prod. She just ran her hand up and down it and then across his shoulders. He had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop from groaning out loud. It was bad enough that she didn't seem to care about the sweat or that she didn't squeal or pretend to be grossed out like most girls would, but with her this close he could smell her too. She smelled like cake. Like birthday cake and suddenly he was back to thinking about taking a bite out of her pale skin, lifting all that dark hair in his hands and sinking his teeth into the pale flesh of her neck.

Now he was _really_ glad he was lying on his stomach.

"Isn't kyphosis supposed to be _worsened_ by physical activity?" Milan knew she was asking the trainer and not him so he kept silent, glad that he wouldn't have to mumble his answer which might give away the fact that he was enjoying her ministrations just a little too much.

"He had a brace for a while, but he says it doesn't bother him," Scott, their physiotherapist and the only guy that Milan trusted to crack his back said jovially. So what if he told the staff a white lie once in a while Milan thought to himself. It really didn't hurt most of the time, and there wasn't much they could do for him if it did.

"He hasn't had the surgery?" she continued to talk about him like he wasn't there, which was beginning to get on his nerves but Milan was willing to let it go as long as she kept running her little hands over his shoulders.

"He's young, he's doing fine," Scott sounded sure of himself. Some nights Milan wasn't sure if ignoring the pain was the right thing to do but the doctors all seemed to think he was going to be fine, for a while anyway.

"So just physio?" she asked, her hands finally digging into his shoulders, her fingers working on the aching muscles and this time Milan couldn't keep the moan to himself.

* * *

"Watch it, you'll have him asleep in no time," the trainer warned with an amused grin. Adri pulled her hands off of the burly winger like she'd been burned. She was used to working on the muscles of tired athletes. She'd been doing it for the UBC football team long enough that it was second nature now to just roll up her sleeves and get to it.

It could have been worse, she chided herself. At least she'd asked permission. If she'd just started in it might look like she wanted to touch him and that was the last thing she wanted the twenty year old who was now looking up at her with a half a smile that said he was disappointed that she'd stopped.

"So no pain?" she asked, turning her back on him quickly as she headed for the sink, running her hands under the cold water and wishing she could get all of herself under the tap. She hated to admit it, but she liked the feel of his big muscles under her hands. Hockey players were built differently than football players. There was no softness around the edges or big doughy sections. The closest she could think of that she'd had to work on was a quarterback, or maybe a kicker, but even then they tended more to the sinewy side.

Milan was solid, like a rock and it was all Adrijana could do to dismiss the thoughts of all that…solid flesh pressed against hers'. Down girl. She could get her cougar's license some other time. She was here to work and more importantly, to finish her thesis. She didn't have time to chase horny young hockey players around.

"Nope," the big winger was sitting up on the bench when she turned around, grinning at her. No, tweak that, _leering _at her, like she was something to eat. "Not now," he added with a grin that had the opposite effect that it should have. She should have wanted to smack him. What she wanted to do was crawl onto that massage table and ride him like the sweaty young stallion he was.

"Well, all the same, I have a list of exercises we've been working on with a couple of football players," she dove into her files and pulled out the diagrams and forced her attention back to the task at hand and off the tree trunks that served him as legs. She couldn't remember ever seeing such thickly muscled thighs, not even on a running back. "We'll start in the morning," she added, wishing she wasn't looking forward to it quite so much and wondering if she had an ice cold setting on her shower in the hotel.

"New Year's day?" he laughed, a nice sound, a non threatening sound, a boyish sound. "I thought coach said we could have 'til noon." She knew the question was for the trainer, but he was watching her and Adri was beginning to feel like he could see the way she was looking at him and what was worse she thought he might actually be enjoying it.

* * *

"That's right," the trainer confirmed with a nod, "he did say noon but that doesn't mean you're supposed to get so hammered you can't work out Looch." Milan grinned and nodded his head, even though he was planning to get wrecked later on but they didn't need to know that. There was plenty that this body of his could put up with and getting wrecked off his ass and skating the next day wasn't a problem for him.

Maybe for some of the older guys, like Timmy maybe, or Ward. It must suck to be that old he thought with a grin as he slid off the table onto his feet. As for the rest of the guys, he was glad to be on a team of young guns. The team that parties together wins together, or so it seemed to be working out lately. They were on a streak and he was pretty sure other than being busted down to the third line for a while, as long as they kept winning, none of the coaching or training staff was going to say much if they came in a little worse for wear on New Years day.

Milan stretched his arms over his head and watched the little therapist's reaction. Her gaze followed his arms, held on his biceps before she began to turn pink and turn away. Ideas began to form in his head. Maybe there could be more to getting wrecked on New Years than drinking and sharing war stories with the boys at the bar.

"Some of us, well, a lot of us, okay most of us are going to this bar tonight for New Years, you should come," he said, putting on his most charming smile. The one that his mother told him made him look most handsome, like a good church boy. Not the one he usually used on girls wearing bearaphanalia at the bar. Not that smile.

This one was jumpy. Nervous. She would need some coaxing; not that he couldn't get her in the sack Milan thought to himself as she appeared to think it over, especially if Bergie and Kobie stayed away, girls were always following those two around. Of course he got his fair share of tail; but most girls seemed to go for the blue eyed boys first.

Swarthy. That's what one of the ice girls had called him the last time they'd all been out. She said he was swarthy. He'd looked it up on the computer when he got home. Most of what he found had to do with pirates, which was kind of cool. Mostly it had to do with his being darker than the other guys and he wasn't sure why, but it didn't go down well with the African American chicks or most of the white chicks either. He looked foreign and in the good 'ol U S of A, ever since 911, swarthy wasn't hot. With dark skin and a big nose, it usually took some convincing of your every day co-ed that he wasn't a terrorist.

Not that there aren't Serbs who are terrorists he thought to himself with a sigh, but there was just no need to complicate the situation. He was from Canada and that was foreign enough for most of the college crowd to accept. They liked his 'accent'.

But this Adrijana, she was more like the girls from home. In fact, as he waited for her to make up her mind, he started thinking about what Jovan and Nikola would think if he brought home a nice Serbian girl. His dad would love it, he knew that.

"I guess I don't really know anyone in town," she finally shrugged, eyeing him cautiously, like maybe she was afraid he'd bite. It wasn't something he was into, but if she liked that kind of thing....

"Good, I'm gonna catch a shower and then we're all gonna go," he grinned, pushing the door open and heading back into the gym.

"Wait. I should probably get the address from you. I need to go back to the hotel to change," she began and his eyes followed her gaze down to those painted on jeans and back up to that sweater that hugged her tits just right.

"Fuck no, it's just a bar, you'll look as good as any of the girls there." He did his best not to make it sound like he was really paying her a compliment. Treat 'em mean, keep him keen. That's what his older brother Jovan was always telling him. 'Your too fucking nice Milan' was what he was always telling him and the guys on the team seemed to agree, although most of them had the same disease he suffered from. Good Canadian Kidedness. Well maybe tonight that would get him laid he chuckled to himself as he yanked his t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bench as he headed into the shower.

* * *

That kid had some fucking nerve. Fucking professional athlete thinks he's god's fucking gift Adrijana fumed as she watched him walk away from her.

_As good as_ any of the girls there? What in the fuck was that about?

Not that she'd gone out of her way to dress up for her first meeting with the trainers, which was all tonight was supposed to have been about. She was just supposed to be coming in to pick up her credentials. It was a stupid time to arrive, New Year's Eve. She knew that. No one had to tell her that but she didn't think that just because she'd worn jeans rather than freeze her fannie off that she looked 'just as good' as some girls.

Staring at his back she wanted to yell after him that she was willing to bet she looked better than any of those girls wearing nothing but his jersey, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

But she wasn't going like this. Not that she cared what he thought because she didn't. He was just some snot nosed kid that was making too much money for his own good. Still, she grinned to herself as she went over to one of his teammates to get the address and name of the bar, she was going to enjoy the look on his face later.

Not that she cared. She had a thesis to do but it was good to start out as she meant to go along and she wasn't about to just let some kid disrespect her that way. No way.


	2. Chapter 2

C2

The looks she got as she strolled down the side street towards the bar were beginning to make Adri think she might just have gone a _little_ overboard. Maybe the co-eds in this town didn't dress up to go to a bar. She was beginning to think she should have asked one of the waitresses in the restaurant or at the hotel for fashion advice. The problem was it was a little late now to change her mind. As it was, it was almost eleven and the boys were likely well into their cups by now, or, with her luck, moved on to some other pub or club or someone's home....

She ignored another wolf whistle from a leather clad biker and shook off the heebie jeebies the look the bouncer gave her as she turned to go into the bar. It didn't look like much from the street, hell the street didn't look like much but this definitely had to be the place. The cobblestoned street was lined with Hummers, Mercs and Beamers. The place was jumping, she could hear the music out on the street and people were even hanging around outside the bar. They looked like the young hip crowd that hung out with the Nucks in Vancouver. Smart, educated and well dressed but somehow this Boston crowd seemed a little less swank, a little less well to do which helped Adri to relax as she squeezed through the group at the door.

She didn't want to look around as if she were desperate to see a familiar face, but the crowd was thick and there wasn't an empty table or spot at the bar that she could see. She was hoping to at least find one or two of the trainers to sit with but realized as she scanned the denim and leather clad crowd that she was hadn't really taken a good enough look at any of them to find to be able to pick them out of a line up out of their sweats.

Admittedly she did want to see Milan's reaction. She did want to hear him admit that she looked better than most of the girls at the bar, but the longer she scanned the crowd, the more she was beginning to give up on that idea.

She would have fit in better in her jeans. That seemed to be the uniform regardless of sex; jeans and a sweater or a t-shirt and leather jacket. There was the occasional more preppy guy with a sports coat, but those seemed few and far between. At least she had the leather jacket she mused as she tugged it closer around her, wishing she hadn't been quiet so ambitious with her cleavage tonight.

"Adrijana right?" She looked up into the cocky smile of what she was sure was one of the players though his name wouldn't come to her. She searched her internal database but all she could come up with was that he was Czech and that as a professional athlete, in her professional opinion, he should put on some muscle mass. "David," he smiled at her, offering her one of the overflowing beer steins in his hand which she shook her head at. "Come, we're mostly at the back. Do you play pool?"

"A little," she lied, grinning to herself as he turned his back and dove into the crowd which seemed to part like hot butter for him. Must be nice, she thought as she followed close behind in his slipstream.

* * *

He'd given up watching the door. He had to admit to himself that she wasn't coming. He'd given up a good hour of chasing tail, not that he couldn't make up that time in a hurry if he wanted to, he'd just have to work at it was all. Maybe he could stroll in late for work out tomorrow. Blame her, tell her if she hadn't made him go chasing all those co-eds and find his way to the rink from some sorority house.... He was laughing to himself as he chalked his cue, thinking that it was time to flex his guns for the girls when the chalk dropped right out of his hand and rolled across the green felt.

At first he was just going to congratulate Krejci on his nice catch. Then, as he focussed in, he realized that the pig tails, leather jacket, school girl kilt and fishnet stockings were on the little physio girl that had been occupying his every waking moment since he'd seen her this afternoon. His mouth went dry as she bounced on her toes at the end of the table, watching him expectantly.

"It _is_ your break," Wheels leaned in and whispered; his gaze following Milan's down the table to the tat peeking above the waistband of the little skirt.

"Shit," he grunted, leaning into the table and sending balls spinning in every direction. He stared at the resulting anarchy and chalked his cue like his life depended on it; anything not to turn and look at her.

So much for her being just like any of the other girls in the bar; had he really said that out loud?

Usually he could see all the angles on the table, just as he was learning to see the plays on the ice before they happened in his head, but not tonight. Tonight the balls all looked the same, the colours bleeding together behind visions of bending her over the table and doing things to her….

Biting back another curse word, Milan bent over the table and aimed the cue ball, sending one of the balls spinning into the corner pocket. He used the game to resist the temptation to watch her, though he could hear her chatting animatedly with his teammates, and that made him grip the cue just a little too hard and that made no sense at all. He didn't know her. She'd barely spoken to him let alone flirted with him. So why did he feel so protective? No, no protective wasn't the word. _Possessive_ was the word.

He wanted her, wanted to grab her and do things to her and he didn't care who was watching and that shook him. He didn't think that way, not about girls anyways. Sure he'd thought about grabbing a guy and pounding his head into the ice until he bled, when he was mad, but this was different.

He was usually the laid back good Canadian boy. He even had a sweetheart although he'd been very clear with her that he wasn't ready to get serious about anything. Looking down the table at her, he felt his blood pressure begin to spike as she dragged her fingers across Wheeler's chest. He made a mental note to do more than just run the table on him. Tomorrow, during practice, he was going to pay.

As one ball after another fell to his aggressive play Milan kept hoping that the tension he was feeling would ease, but if anything it grew, until even grabbing the twenty that Wheels had put up didn't give him nearly the satisfaction it would have before she showed up.

"Do you play?" he heard himself grumble as Wheels handed him the folded bill with a laugh.

"A little," she giggled, reaching for the cue in Wheel's hand, which was just too long for her, but Milan didn't trust himself enough to say anything else. He was too afraid the next thing out of his mouth would show all of his cards and give the game away.

* * *

It wasn't _quite _the reaction she'd been after, to be studiously ignored until he finished wiping the table clean and taking his teammate's money, but Adri couldn't help but admire the focussed no nonsense way he did it or the way his tight black t-shirt revealed every flexed muscle in his chest. She found herself surreptitiously reading the map of his body as he circled the table like a boxer.

She'd been trying so hard to keep up with the flirtatious banter from his teammates that she was almost taken entirely off guard when he appeared at her side.

"Do you play?" he asked, his head down, his attention focussed on the blue chalk on the end of his cue.

"A little," she lied, chuckling to herself as she pulled the cue from his handsome teammate's hand and reached for the chalk with the other. She wasn't certain, but she thought she could see beads of sweat break out on his forehead when her fingers ran over his. "Set 'em up?" she smiled brightly at him as his teammates began to make bets on whether the diminutive trainer could take the big Canadian kid.

On skill, she could probably beat him, but with sheer brute force he was likely to distract her, just like she found herself preoccupied now as he leaned across the table to rack up the balls, his biceps straining. Licking her lips Adri dropped her gaze to the green felt.

Why was this so much harder than dealing with the university football team? She'd always managed to be one of the boys just enough to get away with sexual innuendos and harmless flirtation but as Adri levelled her eyes on the cue ball sending it with a satisfying crack into the others spinning across the table, she found herself looking up at him with what she knew was a smile that said 'catch me if you can' She told herself it was her ego talking. That he'd hurt her pride talking about her and his mother in the same sentence and even though she had confirmed via the trusty old internet that his mother was indeed a milf, it still stung that he'd immediately guessed her age.

She heard the audible oohs and aahs but didn't look up to see if they were commenting on her break or her cleavage, just moved around to stand right in front of him, feigning concentration on the table while she breathed in his aftershave and felt his breath hot on the back of her neck.

_Oh girl, what are you doing to yourself_ she thought as she chalked the cue slowly, deliberate taking her time before pursing her lips over it and blowing.

"So you've played before," he coughed behind her, managing to sound irritated while he stood within a hare's breath of her back.

"Once or twice," she smiled, intentionally bending over and pressing her ass against his monster thighs as she steadied her hand for the next shot. She thought she could hear him curse and had to bite her lip so stop from laughing as he moved to stand away from her. She turned to look right up at him as she made the shot blind and couldn't help but notice, even in the dim light beyond the lamp over the table that he was blushing.

"Once or twice," he shook his head as the ball fell into the pocket and the cue ball rolled slowly to snug up to the next ball.

"Wellll, I haven't played for a while, I could be a little rusty," she batted her eyelashes at him as he grimaced. She knew she shouldn't, that she wasn't here to play games with the men she would be working with in the morning, but she couldn't resist the flame in his cheeks. "Like this next shot, I mean...look how close those balls are," she purred as she straightened and reached for the chalk again, rotating it slowly and deliberately. "Now your arms are so much longer than mine," she allowed herself one long look at his meaty biceps and sighed dramatically, "not to mention your legs."

Now she'd made the mistake of letting her eyes travel south and they were stuck on his noteworthy package. Licking her lips she forced her gaze northwards again just in time to see him run his finger under the collar of shirt. Well, it _was_ hot in here.

"You could use the bridge," he offered, reaching back for it but she only shook her head and slid forward until she was almost prone on the table, careful not to touch anything and to leave just the tip of her pointed boots on the floor.

* * *

_She's fucking toying with me_ he thought to himself as he watched her make the shot that didn't really require the theatrics that she was giving it. It was a show, for him he _hoped,_ but couldn't be sure. Still, when she'd backed that shapely little caboose of hers' into him he'd begun to hope she was thinking the same x-rated thoughts that were filling his head as she walked around to the other side of the table and drained another two balls, back to back.

"Rusty my ass," Wheels laughed as she perched on the edge of the table and made yet another circus shot behind her back. Milan could only shrug in response, his mouth too dry to comment as she turned those dark eyes up at him, a sexy grin slowly spreading across her face as she pointed the cue directly at him...or rather at the little him that had begun to twitch in his pants. Swallowing with some difficulty, Milan reached for his beer and drained it in one long gulp.

The ball zigged and zagged but missed the side pocket, back spin sending it just shy of its' goal. The crowd, his teammates mostly, groaned like they'd been cheering for her. Milan shot the few nearest him a dirty look. You don't cheer for the new guy. It's just not done.

But of course the new guy never looked like that before, he thought as she shrugged and batted her eyelashes at him like she hadn't meant to do exactly that. It left an almost impossible shot for him, and he was sure she knew it too.

"Need help with that?" her voice sounded like thick syrup in his ear as he bent to look down the cue at the angle of the ball to the cup. He intended to say no, but as she slid her hand along his arm and her breast brushed against his rib cage, he changed his mind. "If you top it and give it some back spin, it should come back to the cup," she purred in his ear, sending a shudder down his spine and making his dick strain against his jeans.

He was grateful when he felt her pull back, but then he could feel her fingers working the big muscle between his shoulder blades and he had to close his eyes and bite his bottom lip, hard, to stop from moaning out loud.

"You're _trying_ to distract me," he complained quietly.

"Am I?" she giggled, a sound that reminded him of the bells on a horse's harness at Christmas. "Maybe I am...is it working?" she added in a teasing tone as she walked her fingers down to the small of his back, until he had to give up on the shot and grip the edge of the table instead.

"Be fair," he groaned looking at her over his shoulder, feeling entirely undone by this pint sized woman with the big dark eyes.

"Oh c'mon, like _I_ don't have distractions," she chirped back at him, turning her dark eyes on his teammates and giving a little twirl which resulted in any number of cat calls and wolf whistles. Distractions, right; like she wasn't the ultimate in distractions. Even now as she casually lounged against the side of the pool table and seemed to ignore him, the way she casually stroked that damn pool cue was enough to make him break out in a full sweat.

* * *

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he focussed on the remaining balls on the table. The determination on his face was adorable. Too adorable to stop toying with him even though she told herself he'd had enough, especially considering she was never going to go through with it. _It_. Bad cougar that she was, she could picture him lifting her off of her feet and pinning her against a wall. She would be completely at the mercy of his size and strength and that thought alone sent a shiver right down her spine and made her stomach clench.

She needed to stop. She wasn't here to toy with him, she was here to help him with his kyphosis and learn something that would help her in her thesis.

_Not that anyone would need to know_, she smiled to herself as she heard him curse as the cue ball went wide and rolled down to the end of the table. She looked over to see him glaring at her, his eyes dark but not with anger. Biting down on her bottom lip she bent over the cue and sent the last two balls spinning into corner pockets, clearing the table.

It really wasn't fair. He might have been a professional hockey player, but he was still only twenty years old. She had years of experience flirting with men under her belt. What did he have? Four years of dealing with puck bunnies? And what had that got him?

She handed the cue off to one of his teammates and turned to disappear into the crowd. She was going to have to apologize to him in the morning, or whenever he crawled out of whatever bed he crawled into tonight. After what she'd just put him through, Adri was fairly sure that he would probably take one of these well dressed co-eds back to their dorm room and give them the time of their life. Unfortunately, just thinking of that made Adri clench her teeth.

What she needed was a drink and then to go back to her hotel room alone. In fact, she thought as she squeezed between two of those cute gangly co-eds, she could probably just raid the mini bar at the hotel. Surely they'd have Jose Cuervo in there?

Turning, she headed for the door. A blast of the cold night air would do her good, clear her head. She didn't even turn as she heard the bell over the bar clanging for attention, she just glanced down at her watch and smiled. At least it wouldn't be hard to get a cab for the next few minutes.

* * *

There was a word for women like that, Milan thought as she squeezed between his teammates and left him standing there practically panting in her wake.

Cock tease.

That's what the guys would call a girl like her in the locker room. Not that they encountered girls like that often. Most puck bunnies were puck fucks. They'd spread their legs for anyone that put on a jersey, even a call up. There were the odd few that would hold out to try and become a WAG, but most would spread the pink without too much effort on his part.

Not that that was necessarily a good thing. Those weren't the kind of girls you took home to mom. Those were the kind of girls that got passed around the locker room like a roll of hockey tape.

Adrijana looked like the kind of woman he could take home to his mother. His mother would like her too. Not least because she came from the same background but also because she was going somewhere, had an education behind her and wasn't trying to suck her son dry like most of the gold digging puck bunnies he ended up with.

He'd never dreamed it would be so hard to find a woman that would want him for himself. He'd never dreamed it would be so hard to know who his friends were. Not that he could be sure that just because she was educated that she wasn't just one more in a long line of gold digging whores that was out for all she could get. Maybe he was just blinded by that shapely little ass of hers'.

Damn.

He knew somehow this was going to bite him in the ass, but as the crowd started the count down to midnight, he wasn't going to be just kissing some stranger, not this New Years.

Pushing his way through the crowd he spotted her squeezing past the bouncer. Even with the guys calling his name and one or two of the usual cute co-eds that hung out at the bar grabbing at him, he managed to hit the cobblestone street in time to see her turn the corner onto the next street.

Despite the misty rain that coated the cobbles, making them slippery enough that a professional hockey player who should be worried about getting injured should have slowed down to at least a walk, Milan ran her down, grabbing her by the shoulder as she raised her arm to hail a cab, spinning her to face him.

Her big brown eyes looked up into his, fear and alarm filling them and he had a moment to wonder if he was about to get a face full of mace. Then he was kissing her, lifting her by her shoulders and pressing his lips over hers' in a way that was not at all gentlemanly, his hunger for her and the humiliation she'd caused him back in the bar fuelling the fire burning within him.

* * *

She opened her lips under his, acquiescing to his hungry growl as he dragged her up off of her feet until her toes were barely scraping the ground. His tongue explored her mouth, demanding and forceful. She wanted to reach up and hold on but her arms were pinned to her sides. His hands were huge and she felt her bones crunching together as he gathered her against him. He was like a huge bear, and she was exactly as helpless as she'd anticipated.

She knew she could deepen the kiss, encourage him with her tongue and her lips, wrap her legs around his waist and let him take her home. Her body began to simmer and come alive as he put her down on her feet and his hands slipped lower, cupping her backside as he continued to crush her against his thickly muscled body. She could have given in to the fire that licked in her veins and sang at his touch. She could have thrown caution to the wind and forgot herself for a night and given into the primal urges that begged to take over.

Instead, she reached back and peeled his hands off of her ass and pushed them back towards the width of his chest. Looking up into his confused but still eager eyes, she grinned.

"Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning."

She didn't wait for his reply. She didn't dare. If he so much as asked her to come back she knew she'd give in. Instead she hailed down a cab and slid into the backseat and ordered the driver to take her back to her lonely hotel room. She didn't even dare to turn around to see if he was still standing on the street corner, stunned and silent or enraged.

It didn't matter. She had a job to do and it didn't matter that her body was humming and that she would need to take matters into her own hands once back at the hotel. This was no way to prove that a woman could train male athletes without sex becoming involved. This was exactly what she would be up against when it came to looking for an actual job with another NHL team. What chance did she have if in her first attempt she gave in to the first good looking player that made a play for her? Or worse, that _she_ made a play for?

Bad cougar, she sighed to herself, dropping her head into her hands. Bad, _bad_ cougar.


End file.
